RED

Displayed in collaborative art exhibition, RED: Rich Expressions of Diversity, Salamanca Arts Centre, 2005.

Red is the beginning.

It is the red poncho I wore on my first day at school. 
It is the seven carnations sent by the man I was to marry.

Red winds a thread through my history.
It is pain and power, blood and lust, love and courage.
The red badge of courage.

Red is energy. 
Its track is strewn with flowers.

As a child I watched anemone petals unfold crimson under the tree at the edge of the garden. Nasturtiums sparked scarlet from green mounds. Canna lilies flared at blue skies.

I picked unripe mulberries off their branches and saw pomegranate blossoms fatten to fruit and held the shining pips in the palm of my hand.

My grandmother grew roses, pink and gold, orange and white, and velvety deep fragrant crimson ones. When she died a deep dark rose within me burst and bled.

Red is the where the heart is. The bleeding heart, the nightingale breast on the thorn, the crown of thorns, the thorn in the side, the thorn in the soul.

It’s the colour of severance. My griefs burn like red giant stars.

Thorn trees spike against vast suns rising and sinking. Red flushes visions of my lost land, my beloved country. Flame trees and flame lilies. Red aloes and poinsettia and lucky beans and hibiscus. Red bishop birds flashing in bulrushes.

Red is where my heart is.

As a young woman I lost heart and faded to blues and shadows of colours. I wore pale pink only and later magenta. Now I wear red and my heart on my sleeve.

Red is ruby carnelian jasper terracotta. Gems and stones. Earth.

Red is rose madder vermilion geranium carmine. Pigments and paints.

Red is where the heart is. The red centre.

Red is energy. Love sex and death.
At the end I want to go out red.